A Little Compassion
by Alexannah
Summary: CHAPTER 5 UP! Cast out from the demon world, a desperate and dying Spike turns to the Slayer for help. Buffy agrees to cure him if he takes a Blood Oath to never again harm a living being ... and so begins a strange friendship. SpikeBuffy
1. Bloody Humans!

**Summary:** Cast out from the demon world, a desperate and dying Spike turns to the Slayer for help. Buffy agrees to cure him if he takes a Blood Oath to never again harm a living being - and so begins a strange friendship.

**Rating:** T

**Canon/Spoilers:** Takes place in series four, starting where "_The Harsh Light of Day_" would be and ignoring most canon after that. Parker is still a git however and he will get his comeuppance, my way. (_wicked laugh_)

**Disclaimer:** The Buffyverse belongs to Joss Whedon etc. Shame.

**Author's note:** At last, my debut in the Buffy fandom. I have quite a few other Buffy plot bunnies as well - they breed as fast as the Harry Potter ones. But I'm not neglecting my HP collection, folks, don't worry.  
As I'm British, I'm going to be writing in British English, except for dialogue when I will keep to the character's speech patterns. Just thought I'd warn you now so I don't get accused of inconsistency.  
I don't know Latin, I use an online translator and then my best judgement (which is really just guesswork). So the illness name might be completely off. It's supposed to translate as "vampire killer".

* * *

**A Little Compassion**

by Alexannah

**Chapter One: Bloody Humans!  
**  
Despite the very uncomfortable vibrations of the train, Spike had somehow fallen asleep, but woke just as it pulled into Sunnydale Station. He stood up, swayed a little, took a swig of whiskey and meandered his way to the door, bumping into several seats on the way. He managed to disembark from the train with little more than a bump on the head from where he had fallen down the step, earning himself funny looks from the few people who were actually around that time of night.

"What're you lookin' at?" he muttered. "Bloody nosy humans."

Spike left the platform, intending to find a payphone. He moved slowly and hesitantly, unlike his usual confident stride, one hand on the wall for support. Every now and then he paused and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, or took another swig of whiskey. When he finally found a phone, he lifted the receiver, rummaged in his pocket for a quarter, and stopped.

"Damn," he muttered. He had never had to phone the Slayer before and had no idea what her number was. He pulled out a fistful of change and a blotchy biro, and called Information.

It took over half an hour for Spike to call every Summers listed in Sunnydale. Most he had to try several times because the phone stopped ringing before the person the other end could wake up enough to answer it. He was down to his last few coins when, at last, a familiar voice answered.

"Hello?"

Spike nearly fainted with relief at the sound of Joyce's voice. "Mrs Summers? It's Spike."

"Oh! Er, hello, Spike. How are you?"

"I'm sorry, Mrs S, I can't chat, I've only got a bit of money left and I need to talk to Buffy."

"She's not here. Is it an emergency?"

Spike closed his eyes and slid down the wall. After all that and she wasn't even bloody there. Damn inconsiderate.

"Because if it is," Joyce continued, "I can give you her college number."

"Yes, please."

"Hold on a moment." There was a rustling sound, and Spike nearly broke the biro in two in his impatience. "Here it is." Joyce read it out and Spike scribbled it down. "Good luck."

"Thanks, Mrs S – Sorry for waking you up."

"That's alright, Spike. You should drop by sometime, I keep little marshmallows specially."

Spike smiled. Good old Joyce. The only human he actually liked. If it wasn't for the fact that she wouldn't have a clue what to do about them, he would still be on the phone to her pouring out his troubles, instead of being about to call her daughter instead.

* * *

It was late when Buffy got in. Parker had taken her for a spin in his car, and they had got so engrossed in each other that the sun had set without either of them realising. Willow was in Oz's room, so Buffy didn't have to worry about disturbing her. She undressed, collapsed into bed and was just drifting off to sleep a while later when the phone rang.

"That better not be Giles with another apocalypse," she muttered to herself, sitting up and reaching for the receiver. "Hello?"

There was a pause at the other end. "Slayer?"

She knew that voice. "_Spike?_ What –"

"Save the niceties," he cut over her. "I need to see you. Alone. No weapons, none of your bloody groupies."

"And I should think 'This is not a trap' why?"

He paused again. "Because I need your help."

Buffy sat up. "Which of my friends are you holding hostage this time?"

"None, okay? Look, I don't have time for this. I'm desperate. I don't have anyone else to turn to." He paused again. Buffy thought he sounded strange. "I'm at Sunnydale Station. I'm alone. Can you meet me there?"

Buffy rubbed her eyes, thinking. "Fine. Who needs sleep anyway." She replaced the phone rather harder than was needed, threw back her covers and reached for her clothes. She threw a pink sweatshirt on over her pyjamas, slipped on her trainers and left the dorm on the way to Parker's.

His car keys were on his desk in plain sight. Buffy took them and left his room quietly.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," she muttered to herself. Outside, it was raining. The forecast had predicted heavy rain all night, with flooding in some areas. Buffy found Parker's car, unlocked it, sat behind the wheel and started the engine.

"Oops!"

Just a little dent. She could pay Parker for the damage. Buffy changed the gear out of reverse and rolled forwards, steering carefully round the other cars towards the exit and the road.

As she drove, Buffy wondered what Spike wanted. Contrary to what he had asked of her, she was armed with a stake, because there was no way on Earth she was meeting up with him without one. His tone, though, was different to normal. Less I-want-to-kill-you, more please-help-me.

The rain was almost clouding the windscreen. Buffy turned the radio on and wound the windows down slightly to wake herself up properly. Nearly forty minutes and a few near misses later, she turned into the station car park, stopped the engine, wished briefly she had brought a coat and ran for cover.

The place was almost deserted. Buffy spotted a woman in the ticket office and approached her.

"Hi," she said, "I'm looking for someone, have you seen him? Tall, long black coat, blonde, English accent?"

The woman barely looked up, just pointed in a direction behind Buffy. "Been there over half an hour."

"Thanks." Buffy paused. "He didn't have anyone with him, did he?"

"Nope."

It looked like Spike had kept his half of the deal so far. However, Buffy kept one hand on her stake just in case. She walked in the direction the woman had pointed, stopping when she saw him by the payphone.

Spike looked a mess. He seemed to be asleep, sprawled in the corner. An empty whiskey bottle lay on the ground beside him. His coat was definitely shabbier than when she had last seen him, and his hair was unkempt, the roots starting to grow out. Buffy hesitated.

"Spike?"

She moved forwards slowly. "Spike?" she said again. He stirred a little, but didn't wake. Buffy stopped about half a foot away, and poked him with her foot. "Spike, wake up."

"S'doff."

"I thought you said you wanted my help?"

Spike opened one eye. "Slayer, that you?"

"Yes, it's me. Wake up. Thought vampires were supposed to be nocturnal?"

He shot her a glare and started getting slowly to his feet. "Long trip."

"Uh-huh. Would you care to enlighten me why you woke me up in the middle of the night, in the pouring rain, to come and meet you here?"

Spike didn't answer straight away. He straightened up, swayed slightly, and moved and sat down on the nearest bench. Finally, he said quietly, "I need you to help me find something."

"Something … like, something you lost? … A spell? What?"

He shook his head. "Don't know what it is. Spell, potion, something …"

"Why would I help _you?_ How does helping you help me?" Buffy demanded.

"It doesn't." Spike met her eyes. "But I don' have anyone else to ask and I can't do it on my own."

"So, back to my question, why _should_ I help you?"

He closed his eyes for a moment. When he spoke, he sounded as if it were through gritted teeth.

"Please. I'll do anything. I'm … _begging_ for your help."

Buffy stared at him. "I don't understand."

He swallowed. "I'm sick, alright? … I'm dying. I don't know what the cure is, only that there is one. I don't want to die," he added, quieter.

There was a long silence while Buffy slowly processed the information.

"How do I know this isn't a trick?" she said finally.

Spike looked insulted. "You think I would seek _you_ out and _beg_ without being desperate?"

"Okay, good point." Buffy paused. "Right, let's step into Dreamland for a moment and suppose I help you find a cure for this … What's wrong with you?"

"It's called _Caedo Lamia_."

"_Caedo Lamia_, and you get better. Completely back to your normal self. Your normal, killer self. Why would I do that?"

Spike was quiet for a moment before replying. "I don't know. I suppose I was relying on that compassion you humans are supposed to have."

"I have compassion, Spike. Just not for vampires as a rule."

"That's funny, you seemed to be full of it when it came to An -"

Buffy punched him in the face before he could even finish his sentence. "Let's get one thing straight, mister. If you want me to help you, mentioning Angel is the best way to make it _not_ happen."

"Noted. I'll be good," Spike muttered, rubbing his nose. "Look, I don't care what happens afterwards, I'll do anything you want. Just help me. Please."

"Anything?" Buffy raised an eyebrow.

"_Yes_, dammit."

For a moment Buffy just stared at him. Finally she said, "I haven't made up my mind either way yet. I need time. But the sun will be up in a few hours, so I'd better get you out of here. Can you walk?"

As she had spoken, hope had started to appear on Spike's face. "Yeah, just."

Buffy grasped his arm and helped him to his feet. Once up, he kept a hand on the wall for support. "The car's outside."

"Well, obviously," he muttered. Buffy resisted the strong urge to kick him.

It was still pouring hard. Buffy reluctantly put his arm round her shoulders and hurried him forwards. Once by Parker's car, she dropped his arm quickly. "Get in."

He obeyed, and she got in the driver's seat hurriedly, shivering. He noticed.

"Cold?"

She glared at him. "Aren't you?"

He shrugged. "Vampire, remember."

"Of course," she muttered, turning the keys. "Oh, you've got to be kidding!" The engine refused to start.

"Hit the dashboard," Spike said helpfully.

"How is that supposed to help?"

"Well, hitting something makes _me_ feel better when things go wrong."

"Of course it does; you're evil." Buffy closed her eyes and counted to ten under her breath. When she reached ten, she turned the key again and the engine kicked in.

"Ah-ha!" She shot Spike a triumphant look. He just shrugged at her, closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat. He didn't move for a minute or two, then opened one eye. Buffy was struggling with the gearstick.

"Do you even know how to drive?"

She glared at him again. "I know how to drive. Just don't practise much." She put the car in the right gear and started pulling out of the space, just as there was a clap of thunder. She shivered again. Her clothes and pyjamas were completely soaked through.

Buffy jumped a mile when something soft suddenly fell around her shoulders and she nearly ran into a ticket barrier. "What the -" She stopped, realising that Spike had somehow removed his coat and draped it over her. "What did you do that for?"

"You said you were cold." Spike raised an eyebrow. "I can always take it back if you would prefer -"

"No," Buffy said quickly. "I just meant – why?"

He shrugged. "I brought up your ex, I lend you my coat. Call it quits."

Buffy gave him a funny look, but didn't protest. The coat was much warmer than her sodden clothes.

For about ten minutes the car was completely silent. Spike looked as though he was asleep, although Buffy was pretty sure he was just resting his eyes. Her theory was proven when he suddenly announced, "I'm bored. How far away is … Where exactly are you taking me?"

Buffy had been thinking about this. "You're going to stay at my mum's place till I can figure out what to do with you."

"Oh." He sounded surprised.

"What?"

"It's just … I was expecting you to just dump me in the nearest mausoleum or something."

"Just because you're going to be in my house does not mean you're a guest," Buffy said firmly.

"I wouldn't dare think otherwise." Spike took his cigarette lighter out of his pocket and began playing with it. "So how far away is that?"

"Put that thing away. It's about half an hour. Find a way to entertain yourself."

Spike sighed, replaced the lighter, paused, and started rifling through the glove compartment. "Ooh, CDs. Mind if I put some music on?"

"If it shuts you up, please go right ahead."

He flipped through them. "You like Queen?"

"It's my boyfriend's car, those are his CDs."

"He has good taste." Catching her eye, he said quickly, "Musical taste, I mean."

"Out of curiosity," Buffy said as Spike perused the track listing, "how did you get my number?"

"Your mum gave it to me."

"My _mom?_" Buffy narrowly missed a tree.

"Don't worry pet, I like your mum. I wouldn't bite her. Besides, even I'd be pushed to bite someone over the phone."

Buffy shot him a glare. "Just so we're clear, when I get you back to my place you're getting chained in the basement. I'm not taking any chances."

"If it makes you sleep better."

**TBC …**


	2. Reading Material

**Chapter Two: Reading Material**

Spike inserted the Queen CD and started playing with the volume. As the first few bars of the first track started he replaced the box, dislodging what looked like a personal organiser.

"Hey, reading material. I like this guy."

"Spike! Put that back!"

"If he wanted to keep it private he shouldn't leave it lying about where anyone can just –"

Spike broke off. A piece of paper had fallen out of the organiser. Spike took one look at it and raised his eyebrows. "Dated this guy long, have you?"

"His name is Parker and it's none of your business."

Spike didn't reply for a moment, reading the paper. "Actually, I think it _is_ my business. I don't want a depressed heartbroken Slayer on my hands. You won't be able to focus on helping me."

"What are you talking about?"

Spike dropped the paper and rifled through the organiser. Buffy tried not to look, knowing that taking her eyes off the road would be a very bad idea. "Bloody hell, Parker gets around. Hey, you're marked down for tomorrow."

"What? Are you sure? We don't have anything arranged for tomorrow -"

"It's the fourteenth today, isn't it? You're down for the fifteenth. It just says 'Buffy'." Spike flipped a couple of weeks back. "And there's 'Jemima' – ticked off. And -" he went further back "- 'Alice' – 'Kate' – 'Emily' – Barely a fortnight between them. Wow, what a life."

It was extremely lucky that there was no-one coming either way, that that particular stretch of road was relatively dry due to the overhanging trees, and that there were no bends or obstacles, as Buffy's resolve ran out and she applied the brakes hard and suddenly. Spike, not having a seatbelt on, nearly got thrown through the windscreen. "Bloody hell, woman!"

"Give me that." Buffy snatched the organiser once the car was at a standstill.

It was just as Spike had said. Buffy thumbed through the entire diary, while Spike rummaged in the glove compartment again. It was filled with girls' names. Flipping forward two weeks from her entry, her mouth fell open as she saw 'Willow' written clearly in the middle of the week.

For a few moments she just sat there staring. It had to be a mistake. But the handwriting was distinctively Parker's.

_Of all the -_

"Er … Buffy?"

Buffy barely registered Spike's use of her actual name. "_What?_"

"You might want to see this other stuff."

The piece of paper that had fallen out of the organiser was a list of students that Parker had obviously printed, some of the girls highlighted. The list was annotated, with comments such as "Good for a second time" or "Too clingy". His wallet was in the glove compartment as well, and hidden in one of the pockets was a photo of Buffy – or, to be more precise, Buffy's head attached to a porn picture cut from a magazine.

_The low-down, disgusting, using pervert!_

Buffy noticed Spike pocket the thirty dollars cash that were in the wallet, and didn't bother telling him off. She herself felt like committing some sort of violent act. Instead she dropped Parker's possessions on the floor, grasped the steering-wheel firmly and pressed hard on the accelerator.

Spike swore again as he was thrown backwards in his seat. "Do you have a death wish or something? I thought _I_ was a dangerous driver." He paused. Buffy was staring straight ahead, her knuckles white on the wheel. The needle of the speedometer was moving steadily up. A bend was approaching.

"For goodness' sake Slayer, slow down! You're no use dead." The bend was getting nearer. Spike pushed Buffy roughly into the car door and slammed on the brakes himself.

"Ouch!" Buffy punched him in the face. Spike ducked a second blow, rubbing his nose.

"Feel better?" he enquired.

If looks could kill, Spike would have been dust. "Just put that stuff back. And shut up."

As Spike replaced the organiser and wallet, Buffy closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. _Men_. Finally she opened them, and her heart sank. "Oh, crap."

Buffy reluctantly wound down the window as the police officer approached. "Can I see your licence, Ma'am?"

"It's three AM and I'm in my pyjamas," Buffy exploded. "Do I look like I have my damn licence?"

"Sorry, Officer," Spike said quickly. "She's just pissed off because she just found out her boyfriend is a user."

"Oh, thanks, Spike," Buffy muttered sarcastically.

"Have you been drinking?"

"She hasn't, it's just me," Spike insisted.

"Still, if you can't show me a licence, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to come with -"

As he spoke, Spike got out of the car and walked around. Buffy heard a scuffle, and a silence, and he got back in calmly.

"Drive."

"What did you _do?_"

"Relax, I didn't kill him." Spike paused. "Tempting though, I haven't eaten in a while."

"I'm calling an ambulance," Buffy muttered, pulling out her phone. Spike put a hand on hers as she started dialling.

"Use his phone. You can't be traced then."

Buffy hesitated. "Oh. Good idea."

A few minutes later, Buffy started the car again. Spike turned the music up and she tried to concentrate on the words, to avoid thinking about Parker or the fact that they had left an unconscious police officer behind or that the person singing along to the music was a vampire she was supposed to decide whether to help or kill.

"Spike, either sing in tune or don't sing at all," she finally snapped. He glared at her, but stopped.

After a few moments, Spike looked back at her. He had been staring at her for at least a minute before Buffy said impatiently, "What?"

"Nice pyjamas, Slayer."

"Shut up."

She had forgotten she was only wearing a sweatshirt over her yummy sushi pyjamas. Still, Spike probably wasn't going to go and tell the entire demon world what she wore at night. He would most likely never admit he had gone to her for help.

"So," she broke the silence again. "Tell me about this … Cado Lamb."

"_Caedo Lamia_."

"Yeah, that."

Spike sighed. "I don' really know how it works. I just know it's lethal." He glanced at her. "And bloody painful."

"Really?" Buffy said mildly. "Any more information would be helpful."

"I think it started as a curse. Only it's an illness – like a plague."

"Is it contagious?" Buffy asked warily.

"Highly." Spike saw her expression. "To vampires. You're human, you're safe."

"Good to know."

"And I think demons can catch a different type … So, basically, one demon gets it, and the rest push them away to avoid getting it too." His voice turned bitter. "Even Dru."

Buffy wasn't sure how to respond to that, and silence fell. No wonder Spike had come to her for help. No demon would go near him. She felt a stab of pity for him.

It dissipated a moment later when he, obviously trying to change the subject, said, "What are you going to do about this boyfriend of yours then?"

"I – None of your business!" Buffy had momentarily forgotten about Parker, and resented Spike for reminding her. "Break up with him, I suppose."

"That's it?" Spike raised his eyebrows.

"Well, what would _you_ suggest?" Buffy asked, before suddenly wishing she hadn't.

"Oh, I don't know … something creative." Spike paused. "It's a nice car. You could drive it into a lamp-post."

"Now, see, this is what separates me from your type," Buffy said firmly. "I'm not going to deliberately damage Parker's car, no matter how much he deserves it. It's not right, it's not up to me to decide."

Spike shrugged. "Fine. I'm sure he'll get the message and learn his lesson if you just _talk_ to him. Because guys like that just _love_ to listen."

She ignored his sarcasm, and let out a sigh of relief when she saw a familiar sign pointing them towards home. "We're nearly there."

"Good."

The atmosphere was awkward, and Buffy kept her eyes firmly on the road. What he'd said about teaching Parker a lesson actually made some sense, but she was determined not to let him know she thought that. Neither of them spoke until, at last, Buffy pulled up in front of her mother's house.

It was completely dark. Joyce was obviously asleep. Buffy went to check her pockets for her keys, and remembered she was in her pyjamas. "Damn!"

"You're joking," Spike said flatly.

There was no way she was driving all the way back to college with Spike in tow to get her keys. And she didn't want to wake her mother. Buffy was deliberating when Spike solved the problem for her by breaking the lock.

"_Spike!_ You are paying for that!" she hissed furiously.

"What? I'm tired, and I didn' want to wake your mum."

"How considerate," Buffy muttered. "Just go in."

Spike was already inside, having already been invited before. Buffy told him to be quiet and closed the door behind her. She would have to get him to wedge it shut behind her with something when she left. She paused. That would be tricky, as she had planned to chain him in the basement. She would have to rethink that one.

"Go down there, I'll be down in a minute," he whispered, directing him towards the basement. He opened the door and started down the stairs. Buffy wedged the back door shut from the inside, and fetched the spare front door key so she could leave once she had sorted Spike out. Then, thinking that she ought to give him something other than a cold floor to lie on, removed the cushions from the sofa and a spare blanket from the cupboard and ventured downstairs.

To her surprise, Spike was already in the shackles. He looked up and tossed her the key. "You took your time."

"Do you want these or not?" She showed him his 'bedding'.

"Yes," he said quickly, before adding, "Please."

A few minutes later, Spike was falling asleep in a makeshift bed. It still didn't look particularly comfortable to Buffy, but he didn't seem to mind the manacles too much. He just seemed grateful she hadn't staked him the moment she saw him.

Buffy left him to it, returned upstairs and wrote a note to her mother.

_Hi, Mom -_

Spike asked me for help last night. He's in the basement. DO NOT unchain him, or go within biting distance. He says he wouldn't bite you anyway because he likes you, but I'm not taking any chances. He'll probably sleep all day anyway. I've got classes in the morning so I have to go but I'll drop by later. If I decide to help him I'll stop at the butcher's on the way back.

Love,  
Buffy

PS: Spike was the one who broke the lock. I've told him he's going to pay for a new one.

-----

Buffy was almost falling asleep by the time she arrived back at college. There was a ditch running alongside the car park, and it was filled with rainwater. Buffy paused after turning the engine off, remembering what Spike had said.

_Oh, to hell with it_.

Buffy turned the key again, and manoeuvred the car right by the ditch. She gathered up the organiser and other bits and pieces, noticed that the Queen CD was missing – probably in the same place as Parker's cash – and turned off the car engine, but left the brakes off.

There was something very satisfying about pushing his car into the water. It was almost up to the windows. Suddenly feeling a lot better, Buffy returned to her room.

**TBC …**

AN: Maybe I went OTT with Parker's possessions. But he's a git. And the car won't be the only 'lesson'.  
Joyce will appear again in the next chapter, and so will Willow.

**Review Responses**

**kira1525:** Don't worry, he won't be chained up for long :)

**DramioneLurver:** Yes, I'm a Harry Potter fan too … Got a lot of HP stuff going. Mostly WIPs, I'm afraid, but I'm working on that.

Thanks also to **Relala, IceStar4621, Cherryll, 30obelow** and **SpikeMe208** for reviewing.


	3. Moral High Ground

**Chapter Three: Moral High Ground**

It felt to Buffy as though her head had only just touched the pillow when Willow was shaking her awake. "Come on Buffy, wake up, class is starting soon!"

She groaned and pulled the covers up over her head. "Go away."

"Buffy … why are you wearing sneakers in bed? … And your sweater? Ew, it's wet!"

"It was raining," Buffy mumbled through her pillow.

"You were out last night?"

"Uh-huh."

"Patrolling?"

"Nuh-uh. Saw a vampire though." Buffy emerged from under the covers and looked at the clock. "Damn, I'd better get up. I'll tell you 'bout it later, okay?"

"Alright," Willow said unsurely. "You'd better hurry up."

Buffy changed into some clean dry clothes, pulled a comb through her hair and grabbed a cereal bar before they headed to class.

-----

As Joyce entered the kitchen, she noticed two things. One, that the basement door was open; two, that the back door had several crates pushed against it. On closer investigation, Joyce discovered the lock had been broken.

Burglars?

Glancing round the kitchen, her eyes fell on a piece of paper on the table. As she picked it up, she spotted the words "broke" and "lock".

"_Spike_ broke the lock?" she questioned aloud, before quickly skimming the rest of the note.

Joyce reopened the basement door and quietly made her way down. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she spotted him lying still on the sofa cushions with a blanket thrown over him. She paused. There were chains from the wall attached to his arms. They didn't seem to bother him, as he slept soundly on.

The first time Joyce had met Spike, he had been trying to hurt Buffy and she had hit him over the head. The next time Buffy had invited him into their house. The third time he and Joyce had been chatting away like old friends when Buffy stormed in and tossed him onto the kitchen table by the throat. It seemed one minute he was a guest and the next the enemy, and Joyce sat on the basement steps, unsure whether she should arm herself with holy water or check the cupboards for mini marshmallows. Buffy's note hadn't been the most clear – it had merely said that he wanted her help, and she seemed to be thinking it over.

Well, Joyce decided, Buffy told her to be careful, but not to treat him like a prisoner. Until her daughter issued such a demand, she would treat him like a guest – albeit one in shackles. She liked Spike, and at times – like when she had spoken on the phone to him late last night – almost forgot he was actually a vampire. It was a shame he and Buffy seemed so set on killing each other half the time.

-----

Buffy spent the morning in a tired daze; it wasn't really until lunchtime that she started to feel more awake. Looking around the cafeteria for a place for her and Willow to sit, Buffy's eyes paused at a table. The three girls sitting there were all from her class, and ones whose names had been ticked off in Parker's organiser.

"Willow?" She nudged her friend and nodded over. "Hi, do you mind if we sit here?"

One girl shook her head and the other moved up to make room for them both, but none of them looked particularly pleased to see Buffy. She pretended she hadn't noticed and sat down.

"I'm Buffy," she introduced herself, "and this is Willow. You're … Alice … Kate … and Emily?"

They nodded. Kate made a face at her plate and pushed it away. "I'm not eating that."

"Hey Buffy, guess who just walked in," Willow said suddenly. Buffy looked around. It was Parker. The other girls looked even less happy to see him than her.

She waved him over and adopted an innocent expression as she bade him good morning.

"Morning, Buffy," Parker replied, slightly warily as he saw who she was sitting with. Buffy dug around in her bag and pulled out his keys.

"Here, I forgot to return these. I hope you don't mind Parker, I took your car out last night. A … friend … of mine needed help."

"No problem." He took them back and pocketed them.

"So … no hard feelings?"

"Of course not."

"Oh, good," Buffy said cheerfully. "By the way, you might want to be careful about the sort of stuff you leave lying around in your car."

"Sorry?"

"You really can tell a lot about a guy by the things he keeps in his glove compartment," Buffy stated matter-of-factly, taking his organiser out of her bag in full view.

The look on Parker's face was priceless and he seemed to have lost his voice as she flipped through the pages. "You know, I wasn't aware we had anything planned for tonight, Parker. Oh, and what's this?" She paused by Willow's name and held it up for him to see. "Moving pretty fast, aren't you? We haven't even broken up yet. Oh no, wait – now we have." Parker made to take the organiser but she snatched it back and put it in her bag. By now half the cafeteria was listening in.

"Buffy," he tried fruitlessly, "I know how this looks -"

"That's good, because if you were stupid enough not to then you wouldn't understand the lesson here."

"Lesson?"

Buffy smiled at him calmly. "I could try giving you a moral lecture, but I don't really see the point. Guys like you only learn one way." She stood, and looked at Kate. "You're definitely not eating that?"

She shook her head. Buffy picked up the plate and splatted it onto Parker's face, before putting it upside-down on his head. The whole cafeteria froze.

"Let me make something clear," Buffy said clearly. "I really, really don't like guys who think that girls are just possessions they can use and then throw away. Hopefully now any girls around here you _haven't_ already left broken-hearted will be wise to your tricks. But in case they don't, I'll be watching you, and I'm keeping your things as evidence. And if I find you've used anyone else …" Buffy took the plate off of his head and easily broke it in half. Parker gulped.

Buffy pulled out a camera and took a picture of him standing, white-faced and covered in spaghetti bolognaise. "A memento. Now get lost."

"You can't keep my wallet -"

"You should have thought of that before." Buffy's eyes narrowed. "I said _get lost_."

Everyone stared as Parker started to hurry out of the room. He tripped over someone's leg halfway there, and laughter broke out. Quite a few of the female population, Buffy suddenly realised, were applauding her, including the girls on her table. She took another picture of Parker sprawled on the floor.

"Oh, and I hope you've got insurance on your car," she called after him as he reached the door. He paused and looked back at her.

"Why?"

She smiled innocently. "Oh, it's not in the car park. I may have accidentally parked it outside the perimeter …"

Parker ran to the window and put the blinds up. Several people laughed and he positively howled when he saw his car, submerged nearly up to the roof. Buffy took another picture just before Parker ran outside.

"What do you know," she said conversationally, replacing her camera and sitting back down at the table. "Spike was right. That felt good."

Willow blinked at her. "_Spike?_ What's he got to do with -"

"I'll tell you later," Buffy muttered. "Damn, my food's gone cold."

-----

"What was that all about?"

Buffy flopped onto her bed as Willow shut the door behind them. "I said; I took Parker's car out last night and found a load of stuff in his glove compartment. He's a user and a pervert and I think I'm going to put these pictures on the fridge."

Willow gave her a funny look. "What sort of stuff?"

"Put it this way – he had planned exactly who he was going to have sex with months in advance."

"Eek. Sounds like you got out just in time."

"Yeah, thanks to Spike … That's something I never thought I'd say. Don't tell him I said it."

"What's Spike got to with it?" Willow repeated the question from earlier.

Buffy sighed. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. He's the reason I went out last night. He called me and asked for my help."

"With what?"

"Have you heard of Caedio Lamia?"

"I think I've seen it mentioned in one of Giles' books," Willow said thoughtfully. "What is it?"

"Vamp sickness. Fatal. Spike wants me to help him find a cure. I'm his last resort."

Willow was silent for a moment. "I see your dilemma."

Buffy nodded. "On one hand, he's evil. If I let him die, one less bloodsucker to roam the streets, right? … But on the other … it just doesn't seem right."

"Yeah, I know."

"I mean, I know if I cured him he'd just be a killer again, and then I'd be responsible for letting it happen. But when I brought up that point with him, he said he's do _anything_."

"Anything?"

"Uh-huh. In an ideal world, I could ask him not to kill again, but what are the odds of him actually keeping _that_ promise?"

Willow shrugged. "Still, there's got to be some way. I say you don't fight evil by doing evil."

"I know. But I have to think about what's best for the general public as well, and having a back-to-full-health Spike set loose is not an option."

"Well …" Willow thought. "How about a magical solution? … A Blood Oath!"

"Pardon?"

"Well, for humans it's just a serious promise, but if someone like a vampire did it properly, it would be magically binding – if he broke it, he would die."

"You think he'd be willing to do that?" Buffy asked doubtfully.

"I don't know, you tell me. He _did_ say _anything_. And if he's not willing, then you stake him. Problem solved."

When Spike began to wake, it took him a while to remember where he was. The ground beneath him felt a lot softer than he remembered, and there was something else just as soft covering him up to his shoulders. The confusion was enough, for a few moments at least, to distract him from his hunger. Once his mind started working properly, he opened his eyes and scanned the basement. Of course. He was at the Slayer's place.

He closed his eyes again and willed himself back asleep, trying to ignore his stomach protesting against the lack of nourishment. Almost as overwhelming were the aches all over his body that had been growing over the last few days. Ache didn't describe it well, really. Stabbing pains were more like it.

Spike coughed into his makeshift pillow, and heard movement above him. A few moments later the basement door opened and footsteps sounded coming nearer.

"Hello, Spike."

He opened his eyes again and raised his head slightly. "Oh, hello, Joyce. How are you?"

"I'm fine, thank you." She looked at the manacles. "Why exactly are you chained up?"

He shrugged. "Buffy don' trust me. That's okay, I'd be the same way in her position."

"Well … she left me strict instructions not to unchain you, but can I get you anything?"

"You don't have any blood in the house, do you?" Spike enquired hopefully.

"All out, I'm afraid," she smiled. "Buffy said she'd bring some by later."

"Oh good … Could I have some water? Please."

"Of course."

Joyce returned to the kitchen and filled a glass. When she came back down the steps, she saw Spike had barely moved. "Here you are."

"Thanks." Spike partially sat up and took it.

"So … how are you?" Joyce asked.

He grimaced. "Reduced to begging your daughter to help me. Pretty low."

"Buffy's really very nice once you get to know her."

"For humans, maybe. But she's the toughest Slayer I've ever come across." Spike paused. "Don' tell her I said that."

"My lips are sealed." Joyce stopped thoughtfully. "Are you all right? You don't look very comfortable. Oh, I've got an idea." She disappeared back upstairs for several minutes and returned with something large.

"What's that?"

"Spare mattress." Joyce somehow managed to lug it down the steps and laid it on the floor next to Spike's current 'bed'. "That should be better."

Spike sat up slowly, moved the blanket and cushions onto the mattress, and sank into it gratefully. "You're right, that's much better. Thanks, Joyce."

"You're welcome." Joyce sat down next to him. "So, what exactly do you need Buffy for? Anything I can help with?"

Spike looked her in the eye. "Unless you secretly know all about mystical ailments and curses, 'fraid not."

"Are you sick?" Joyce asked quietly. He nodded. "Is it serious?"

"Yeah, pretty serious."

"And Buffy's going to help you?"

"I hope," he admitted.

"Well, if I know my daughter, she will, I'm sure of it."

Spike liked Joyce a lot, but couldn't help but think that she didn't know her daughter as well as he did. She seemed to always see the best in people … Probably why, he thought, she didn't mind him.

Buffy Summers, on the other hand … It was a good thing she wasn't half as nice as her mother, or Spike wouldn't be able to fight her at all.

He had always been too sentimental.

Spike kept his thoughts to himself. It was almost touching how naïve the mother of the Slayer could be, and he didn't want to burst her bubble. Instead he changed the subject. "Have you been watching _Passions_?"

They discussed the show for a while. It was nice just to talk about something mundane. Spike appreciated the simple things of life, and this kind of conversation was thin on the ground in any kind of relationship he had. Actually, relationships were fairly thin on the ground with him anyway, considering every vampire and demon was avoiding him as if he had the plague … which, in a way, he did.

"This is nice," he finally murmured sleepily.

"This?"

"Just talking." Spike closed his eyes. "You're a mate, Joyce."

"I shall take that as a compliment." Joyce hesitantly reached out and smoothed the blanket over him gently. Spike smiled slightly.

"Thought Buffy left you strict instructions to stay out of biting range?" he said suddenly.

"I'll take the risk. Can I get you anything else?"

"No, I'm okay. Just need sleep."

"Are you sure?" Spike nodded. "Would you like me to stay for some company?"

Spike considered. "That would be nice," he replied in a quiet voice.

Joyce tucked him in properly and continued smoothing out the blanket; Spike drifted slowly off to sleep, enjoying the motherly gesture more than he planned to ever admit to anyone.

-----

When Buffy arrived home, no-one came to the door, so she let herself in through the unlocked back door. "Hello, anyone at home?"

Her mother emerged from the basement. "Oh, hello, Buffy."

"Hey, Mom … What were you doing down there?"

"I was making sure our guest is all right."

"He's not a -" Buffy began, then stopped. "Fine, he's a guest." She sighed and placed the bag on the table. "_Is_ he all right?"

"He's asleep at the moment. Do you have some blood for him?"

"In there."

Joyce opened the bag. Buffy raised her eyebrows as her mother took out the blood and poured some into a mug as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "Do you know how he likes it?"

"Try asking him," Buffy replied. "When he wakes up."

"I'll put it in the fridge for now." Joyce did so. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Well, are you going to help the poor man or aren't you?"

"Spike filled you in, huh?" Buffy sat down at the kitchen table. "Yeah, I'll help him, _if_ he agrees to my terms. And he's not a man, he's an evil bloodsucker, Mom. I hope you didn't go too near him."

"No I didn't, but I do think chaining him up was unnecessary. Spike has always been nothing but friendly to me."

"I'm not taking any chances. Specially when it comes to my mom."

Joyce smiled. "Thank you, honey."

-----

Spike stirred. "Joyce, you still there?"

A familiar voice answered. "No, but I am."

His eyes snapped open and saw Buffy sitting against the opposite wall.

"What's the time?" he mumbled.

"Just gone ten."

"At night?"

"Yeah."

Spike winced as all his pain started to come back. "Hard to tell down here."

"Thought vampires had a kind of instinct for that?"

"Mine's been a bit wonky," Spike said wearily, sitting up. "That happens if I don't stick to traditional vampire sleeping patterns."

"I see. I think. Hungry?"

His stomach grumbled. "Starving."

"I picked up some pig's blood from the butcher's, it's in the fridge upstairs. But I have to talk to you first, before we go any further."

That sounded ominous. "Go ahead," Spike said warily.

Buffy took a deep breath. "I propose a deal." She paused, letting him take it in. "I will find a cure for you, but only if -"

"Name your terms," Spike said immediately.

Buffy blinked at the abruptness, but continued. "I've solved my dilemma over putting a killer back on the streets. It's pretty simple. If I help you, you have to swear to never kill a human being ever again."

Spike wasn't surprised. "I had a feeling it would be something like that."

"To make sure you keep your promise, you'd have to take a Blood Oath," Buffy concluded. "Those are my terms, and they are non-negotiable. Now, are you willing to go through with this? Because if not, I can make it quick."

Spike only hesitated a fraction of a second before announcing, "Agreed. I'll take the Oath."

"Are you sure?"

"_I – don't – want – to – die_."

Buffy stared at him with a strange expression on her face for a moment, before saying, "Fine. It's a deal."

**TBC …**

**Review Responses******

Sandy: Oops, thanks for pointing that out to me. I've corrected her swearing and kept a closer eye on the language I use for the American characters.

Thanks also to **Relala, Cherryll, Lenee'** and** shadow** for reviewing!


	4. Beginning the Search

**Chapter Four: Beginning the Search  
**  
"So, did he do it? Did he take the Oath?"

"Yeah, he did." Buffy looked down at her right hand. A bandage was wrapped around it where she'd cut her palm for the Oath. "I have to say, I wasn't expecting him to do it. It's against vampire nature."

"He must really be desperate," Willow murmured thoughtfully. "I actually feel sorry for him."

"I know."

"So, are you going to ask Giles for help?"

Buffy shook her head. "I already discussed that with Spike. He doesn't want anyone except you, me and Mom knowing he's even in town. Think he's afraid Xander or someone will stake him behind my back."

"Point taken … but surely Giles will be able to search much more efficiently."

"We agreed if the situation gets desperate, I ask him for help; otherwise, it stays between us."

"Okay, got it. Won't breathe a word." Willow paused. "What if he asks what we're doing?"

Buffy shrugged. "Background reading?"

"He'll never swallow that. From me, maybe, but not from you."

"You'd be surprised what people believe when they _want_ to believe it," Buffy smiled. "Anyway, I'm going over there later to pick up some books. Can you come with me, help me out?"

"Sure I will."

"Maybe I'll give Spike a couple to look through," Buffy mused. "Might as well make him feel useful."

"He still chained in the basement?"

"No, I let him out after he took the Oath. When I left he was lying on the sofa watching the soaps with my mom. I think he's going to be practically living there from now on. Mom doesn't seem to mind – actually, I think she's enjoying the company."

* * *

"Was there a particular subject you were interested in, Buffy?" Giles asked, looking as if Christmas had come early.

"Um …" Buffy looked up at Willow.

"We were thinking, curses, that kind of area," Willow said. "It's not really one we know much about."

"Curses particularly in reference to vampires," Buffy added.

"It _is_ a good idea to read up on topics we don't have a lot of experience in," Giles agreed. "Knowledge is power, as they say. Why don't you try these two to begin with." He handed Buffy two very heavy, worn volumes. "This one deals more with the history, and this one more with the how-tos. I imagine both could be useful."

"Thanks, Giles," Buffy murmured.

"Out of curiosity, was there a particular reason why this sudden interest in research?"

Buffy and Willow glanced at each other. "Um, not really," Buffy said, before adding in a cheerful tone, "Maybe I'm maturing!"

Giles just raised his eyebrows at her.

The girls left Giles' house laden with books. Willow took some back to college, while Buffy headed for home with some for Spike to look at. She had selected some which looked easier, as she was unsure how capable Spike would be of researching while he was ill. She at least, was well, and had Willow to help her understand some of the Giles-style language.

Buffy let herself in, calling quietly, and heard her mother answer from the living-room.

"Hey Mom."

Joyce looked up at her from the mound of paperwork spread over the coffee table. "Hello, honey."

"Where's Spike?" Buffy asked, dropping her bag of books onto the sofa.

"In the shower."

"Didn't know vampires bothered." Buffy sat down and started unpacking her bag.

"He spilled blood down himself," Joyce told her, looking back at her paperwork. "His hands were all shaky earlier."

"That a symptom?" Buffy asked quietly.

"He says yes." Joyce sighed. "How are you doing with finding a cure? – Is that what those books are for?"

Buffy nodded. "I was thinking Spike might like to help out, if he's up to it. I know if it was me, I'd want to lend a hand finding it. The books are for him to look at." She paused, and suddenly frowned. "He was up this morning?"

"No, just woke up hungry. Thirsty. Er, what _is_ the correct term?"

Buffy shrugged. "Think you can use either."

"Oh." Joyce thought for a moment. "While on the topic of food – drink – of edibles, will you be staying for dinner?"

Buffy smiled. "I think so. If I'm not intruding. You two seemed pretty snugly on the sofa last time I left."

Joyce laughed. "Buffy, you will never be intruding." She stood up and hugged her daughter. "But I have to say, it is nice having someone round the house again."

When Spike came back down from his shower, dressed only in his jeans, he retreated to the basement without saying hello. Buffy thought he looked almost as bad as he had at the station. She followed him down with the books, and found him climbing back onto the mattress, this time chain-free.

She hovered on the stairs. "Knock, knock."

He looked up, startled. "Oh, it's you. Didn' realise you were here."

"Is blindness a symptom?" Buffy teased, before turning serious. "Look, I went to Giles today -"

"You didn't tell him?" Spike interrupted.

"No, I didn't. I promised, remember? I just said I wanted some background reading, and got these books. Thought you might like to lend a hand looking through them."

He moved faster than she would have expected, hurrying over to look at them. Buffy stacked them in a pile on the floor, and he picked up the first and turned straight to the index, running a finger down the yellowing page.

"I'll take that as a yes, then."

He grinned. "These look promising." He looked up at her. "Buffy … thanks."

It was the first time she could remember him using her proper name, and he certainly had never thanked her before. Buffy wasn't sure how to react. She hesitated, and said, "You're welcome." There was an awkward pause, broken by a shout from upstairs.

"Dinner's ready!"

"We'll be right up!" Spike called up to Joyce. Buffy raised her eyebrows.

"You're joining us?"

He nodded. "Sure, why not? I don' feel so bad right now, so might as well make the most of it."

Buffy couldn't argue with that.

Spike carefully piled the books by his mattress and began to climb the stairs. Halfway up, he turned his head around to look at Buffy. "You comin'?"

"What? Oh – yeah." Buffy hurried after him, hoping he hadn't noticed her staring at his shirtless torso, and beginning to wonder if there was something wrong with her. "I'm coming."

To Buffy's disappointment, Joyce presented Spike with his washed, dried and ironed t-shirt which he pulled on before they sat down at the table. Joyce had laid a mug of blood out ready for him, juice for herself and a Coke for Buffy, and began dishing up the pasta.

"This looks delicious, Joyce," Spike said in appreciation.

"Smells delicious too," Buffy added.

Throughout the meal, Spike acted unnaturally _nice_, saying "please" and "thank you" a lot and passing Joyce everything she couldn't reach, even if it was nearer to Buffy. It was starting to grate on Buffy's nerves. _What's he playing at, sucking up to Mom?_ she thought. When they had all finished, Joyce started to clear the table, but Buffy stopped her.

"Let me clear up, Mom," she jumped in, cutting off Spike's offer.

"That's very nice of you, honey. Although I can't remember you ever volunteering before." There was a twinkle in Joyce's eye as she spoke.

"I'll do the washing-up," Spike said, standing. "Why don't you put your feet up for a while, Joyce?"

"I'll bring you a coffee," Buffy said, shooting Spike a small glare.

Joyce laughed. "Why don't I do that, and you two can sort out the rest between you." She left the room, smiling to herself.

Buffy rounded on Spike. "What the hell do you think you're playing at?" she hissed.

"What?" he asked in an innocent tone. "I'm on'y being friendly. Told you, I like your mum."

"Mom may see you as a poor victim," Buffy said, filling the sink with hot soapy water, "but she's not the best judge when it comes to the supernatural stuff, okay? I know you better than that."

"Do you." Spike put the kettle on. "Well then, tell me, if I wasn't sick and under Oath, what would I be doin' right now?"

"Let me guess," Buffy said in a sarcastic tone. "Killing someone. Duh."

"Wrong, Slayer."

"Go on then, tell."

He took the clean dish out of her hands and started wiping it dry. "It's a warm, clear evening. If I was back in Brazil, me an' Dru would be on the beach, lying back in the warm sand watchin' the stars, an' I'd be composing her a poem."

"A poem?" Buffy said incredulously. "_You?_"

He shrugged. "Tried to be a poet when I was human. Wasn' much of a success, but I still try on occasion. Jus' for the heck of it, you know." Spike's eyes narrowed. "You tell anyone that, I will flush Mr. Gordo down the toilet."

"How did you know about Mr. Gordo?" she snapped.

"Your ex mentioned it when he was evil. Thought about planning to decapitate your little toy piggy as a message. On'y you uninvited him from your house before he could."

Buffy stared at him. "Right."

"Hey, I was nothin' to do with all that." Spike held up his hands in a surrender. "I was all for killing you outright."

"Oh, thanks. That really helps. And just proves my point." Buffy pushed a soapy plate rather forcefully into Spike's hands. "No matter how hard you try to act otherwise, you can't change the truth."

"Which would be?" Spike sounded amused now.

"Oh, for goodness' sake," Buffy groaned. "forget it. Just stop being so _nice_ all the time, all right? It's just too creepy."

"What would you prefer me to be like?"

"I don't care; as long as you're neither hurting my mom nor licking her shoes, you can do what you want."

Spike grinned. "If you insist."

"I mean it," she insisted, not liking the look on his face. "No kiss-ass."

"I get it." He chuckled. "The Slayer's jealous."

"_What?_ I am not!"

"Yeah, you are. You're scared I'm taking your mum away from you." Spike paused. "Look, pet -"

"_Don't call me 'pet'_."

"I _like_ your mum, all right? I like her a lot. But she's _your_ mum, not mine." He paused, a strange expression on his face. After a moment he said, "Look. Joyce … kind of reminds me of my own mum a bit. Okay? _That's_ why I've been tryin' so hard. But she's got you; you'll always be first with her, and I would never try to change that – not that I could."

For a long time after Spike's speech ended, neither of them spoke. Finally Buffy found her voice.

"I think the kettle's finished boiling."

She made Joyce's coffee while Spike slowly continued the drying up, and took it in to her. Joyce was back at the paperwork in the living room.

"Here's your coffee, Mom."

"Oh, thank you, honey. Just leave it on the table." Joyce was frowning at a stack of bills. Buffy left the mug and returned to the kitchen, wondering how much of their conversation she had heard.

Spike had moved to the washing-up bowl and was in the middle of doing the cutlery. "Spike, I was doing that."

"I ran out of things to dry up." He handed her back to scrubbing brush and moved back to the drying rack. "Knock yourself out."

Buffy was tempted to knock _him_ out, but grudgingly went back to the washing up, and finished when Spike still had two plates left to dry.

"I could do one of them," she offered, getting out another towel.

"I've got it, thanks."

"It would be quicker -"

"For goodness' sake Slayer, quit it!" Spike snapped. "_I am not trying to steal your mother; I am only trying to be helpful!_ Will you get that through your thick skull? Bloody hell, it's a good thing you're at college most of the time; if this is what it's like living with you I'd stake myself by the end of the week!"

They both glared at each other, and were interrupted by Joyce clearing her throat. "Erm … are you two finished?"

There was a pause. "The arguing or the dishes?" Buffy finally asked.

"Both would be nice."

"Nearly done on the dishes front," Spike informed Joyce.

"And …?"

Buffy glanced back at Spike. "Not sure on the arguing front."

"Well, when you two are done acting like toddlers, I will be upstairs."

Joyce left a stunned silence behind her. "I know that tone," Buffy said finally. "That means she's not very happy with us."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Obviously."

"Well, you started it."

"Actually, you did; and may I point out that by making that accusation you have proved your mother's observation correct."

"So did you by contradicting me."

They both stopped, and after a moment they both laughed.

"This is stupid," Buffy said finally, wiping away a tear of laughter. "Mom's right. If this arrangement is going to work, we've got to both grow up and start acting our age … Well, maybe not. I'm more mature than the average eighteen-year-old, and you're like two hundred."

Spike frowned at her. "Hey! I'm not _that_ old!"

"Whatever. You get my point."

"Yeah, I do." Spike considered. "Maybe we should lay down some ground rules."

"Such as, don't go overboard with the sucking up to my mother?"

"And not going overboard on the attempts to stop my sucking up to your mother."

Buffy smiled. "Okay, deal. And we can add more as we think of them."

"Suits me. Now, you wanted to do one of these dishes?" Spike offered her one.

"Thanks." Buffy took it. "When we're done we should go and tell Mom we've stopped fighting."

"For now."

"Are you trying to start again?"

"No, just sayin' – you're the Slayer, I'm a vampire. Oath or no Oath, I think it's probably likely we'll be bickering a lot."

"I hate to say it, but I think you have a point."

"How long d'you reckon it'll take for us to go a day without an argument?" Spike said jokingly. "Few decades?"

"Ha ha."

"No, seriously. I reckon a year at least."

"You planning on hanging around that long?" Buffy asked. Spike just shrugged. "How long … I mean … the illness -"

"Matter of weeks."

"Oh." Buffy considered. "So, when you said a year -"

"Obviously, only if we manage to find the cure in time."

"Spike, you do realise your being here is only temporary, right?" Buffy said. "Once you're cured, that's it, deal's done, and I don't want to see you round here again. You got that?"

There was a long pause. Finally Spike, still not saying anything, thrust the dishcloth into her hands and stalked through the door to the basement steps. Buffy sighed, and turned to the sink. _Vampires._

* * *

"Well, did you two work out your issues with each other?"

Buffy slumped onto the sofa. "Mom, I think it would take a year and a whole lot of therapy for us to work through all of our issues with each other. But for the purpose of this discussion, we've stopped fighting."

"Oh, good." Joyce looked up at her. "Buffy, you do know that Spike isn't trying to hog me, don't you?"

So she had heard.

"He's just trying to be polite and helpful, seeing how he's staying here." Buffy remained silent, having decided she didn't have the energy left to argue with her mother. "You're my daughter and I love you more than anything, you know that." Joyce kissed Buffy, and she allowed herself to lean into a hug.

"I know," Buffy said finally.

* * *

Although both Spike and Buffy tried their best to pretend the argument had not happened, the atmosphere was still tense. Spike announced cheerfully that he seemed to be going through a good patch, and spent a lot of his time reading through the books Buffy had taken over. Buffy was going from college to home, and working her way through her own with some help from Willow.

Several references to the illness had been found, but none detailed enough. One evening, when Spike was asleep in the basement and Buffy was in the living-room reading a particularly difficult volume, while her mother was dusting the mantelpiece, Joyce took her daughter by surprise.

"Buffy?"

"Yes Mom?"

"I … haven't been able to summon the courage to ask this yet, but …" She took a deep breath. "Is Spike going to die?"

Buffy didn't answer at first, just turned a page in her book. Finally she said quietly, "No, he's not."

Joyce looked relieved. "So his sickness _isn't_ fatal?"

"Oh, it is." Buffy looked up. "But I've made a promise now, and I intend to keep it, Blood Oath or no Blood Oath. I'll find the cure, Mom, you'll see."

**TBC …**


	5. At Home

**Chapter Five: At Home  
**  
Two weeks after Spike's arrival, he, Willow and the Summers' were feeling the tension as still no reference to the cure was found. There were still plenty of Giles' books to go through however; mostly Buffy and Willow were doing this, as Spike's good patch slowly wore off and he spent more and more time asleep in the basement with Joyce anxiously fussing over him.

With the exception of the odd petty disagreement, Spike and Buffy had not had an argument like the first one. Both were trying hard to keep to the ground rules. Willow had not yet met Spike, although she heard a lot about him from Buffy – from how much his presence got on her nerves to how anxious she was getting over finding the cure for him.

Towards the end of his good patch, Spike's health started fluctuating faster, eventually from day to day – he could be almost fine one day and barely able to lift his head off the pillow the next, as well as variations in between. Buffy knew her mother had been taking a lot of time off work, and hoped she wouldn't lose her job at the gallery.

Joyce and Buffy had never had money to throw away anyway. Buffy was no longer living at home, and Spike ate less than her (and bought less clothes), but Spike still found Joyce stabbing repeatedly at a calculator next to a pile of bills with her face creased in anxiety.

"Joyce?" He pulled out a chair next to her and sat down. "You okay?"

She pushed a leaflet towards him. It was brightly coloured with pictures of couples dancing over it. In the middle in large letters it read, _SALSA LESSONS_. Underneath, in smaller print, _No partner necessary._

"You want to learn to salsa?"

"I would love to learn," Joyce sighed, "but I can't afford it, however way I try and work it out." She pushed the calculator away and rested her head on her arms on the table.

Spike gave a low whistle when he saw the price of the course. "Come on Joyce, you don't need to pay this much for a beginners' salsa course."

"I know I don't _need_ it," she said into her arms. "I just would have liked to take it up as a hobby."

"I didn't mean it like that, I mean you don't need to _pay_ for a teacher. You've got me."

Joyce looked up. "What?"

"Stand up." Spike took her by the hand and she stood. He led her into the living room, where he pushed the table towards the wall out of the way.

"I've been all over the world, Joyce, and I've picked up a few things on the way. How to salsa is one of them. Now." He stood in front of her, and took a firm but gentle hold on her right hand and placed her left on his shoulder. "This is the basic position. The lady places her hand on the shoulder, and the gentleman places his hand on her shoulder-blade." He did so. Joyce, still surprised, followed his lead. "Now, for the basic step, the gentleman steps forward on his left, but the lady steps backwards on her right. Have you got that?"

"Um, yes, I think so."

The lesson lasted several hours, and Spike had taught Joyce several steps before she realised what the time was and shooed him into the kitchen to help with dinner.

Whatever the outcome of his illness, Joyce realised she would miss Spike sorely. He was the kind of person that seemed _permanent_, by his very nature. This was enhanced in his unfailing optimism – or maybe he was just putting on a brave face. Either way, she could no longer imagine their lives without him.

* * *

"Okay, spill," Willow said before Buffy had even closed their door behind her.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Buffy shrugged off her jacket, avoiding her friend's eye.

"Oh, come on. I know you were with Riley Finn. Did something happen?"

"No, nothing happened."

Willow raised her eyebrows. "You expect me to believe that?"

"Okay, okay." Buffy sat down and started to undo her shoes. "Yes, we went for a drive. Yes, it was nice. No, nothing else happened."

Willow looked disappointed. "No kissing?"

"No."

"Oh. Why not? I mean, you like him, right?"

Buffy considered. "Yeah, I guess. But after Parker, I'm being more careful. And besides … I'm not one hundred percent sure I like him in _that way_."

"Good point. Just don't take too long deciding though, 'cause he seems much nicer than the other guys around and you don't want to lose him."

"Mm."

Silence fell. Willow slid into bed and Buffy finished undressing. It wasn't until Buffy was in bed as well and had turned out the light that Willow realised what the look on her friend's face meant.

She gasped and sat bolt upright. "Buffy!"

"What?" Buffy grumbled.

"There's someone else, isn't there?"

"Huh?"

"You like someone else!" Willow bounded out of bed, turned the light on and jumped onto Buffy's bed eagerly. "Spill! Who is he?"

"Willow Rosenberg, you are a nutter. There's no-one else."

"You sure?"

"Positive. Besides, who on earth have I had a chance to start liking besides Riley?"

"Oh."

Buffy switched off the light.

* * *

Spike had definitely begun to feel at home in the Summers' household. This was mainly due to Joyce's caring nature, but he noticed that Buffy seemed to be less antagonistic towards him these days. Although she was only around some of the time, she was beginning to treat him like a human being and had taken to asking him how he was feeling every time she arrived.

In return, he found himself warming to her in a way he couldn't quite put his finger on. Now he was the recipient of her good nature rather than set on destroying it, he found it harder to think of her as the Slayer. She was Buffy.

Joyce had been right, he thought wryly one time when she was staying to dinner. Buffy really was nice once you got to know her.

He kept his thoughts to himself, however, as well as the disturbing feeling that he was missing something when Buffy mentioned a new name.

"Who's Riley?" Joyce asked before Spike could.

"He's the course trainee teacher. I've gone for a couple of drives with him, he's a nice guy."

Spike grinned at her, although in truth he felt like punching something. "'Nice guy', eh? What exactly does that mean?"

"It means, mind your own business, Spike." Buffy grabbed the ketchup out of his hands.

He wolf-whistled. "Message received, Slayer, loud and clear."

"Oh, shut up."

Joyce just smiled to herself infuriatingly.

After dinner, Buffy retreated upstairs to find the jacket she had left behind last time, and Spike volunteered to wash up so Joyce made a start on the laundry. He had just finished when the phone rang, and she asked him to get it.

"Summers residence," he stated.

"Can I talk to Buffy?" The voice was male and unfamiliar. Spike frowned.

"Are you Riley?"

"Yeah."

If he had been alone, Spike would have given into the urge to reply "She's not in", possibly with an accompanying insult, and hang up. But Joyce was in earshot so he forced himself to overcome it.

"One second." He moved the phone away from his ear and bellowed, "Buffy, it's your boyfriend!"

Hurried footsteps from above signalled that Buffy was on her way to wrestle the phone off of him. Deciding to make the most of this opportunity, he returned the phone to his ear.

"She's on her way down," he told him.

"Oh, good."

"So, how long have you two been dating?" Spike said with a grin.

"We're not – I mean -"

"Really? That's not how Buffy makes it sound."

Buffy entered the room at that moment, but Spike was not willing to pass up this golden opportunity without a fight. For the next few moments all Finn should have been able to hear was scuffling and Buffy's annoyed "Spike, _give me the phone!_", before she managed to wrench it out of his hand and said breathlessly, "Hi, Riley."

Spike wished he'd managed to be more creative with his conversation. As Buffy moved into the next room and pulled the door to, he sat and stared unseeingly in front of him.

He could hear Buffy laughing through the door. After a few moments Joyce came in.

"Spike? What are you doing?"

"Watching telly," he mumbled.

Joyce looked at the blank screen and back at him. "It's generally considered more entertaining if you turn it on."

"Shh," he said, straining his ears to hear Buffy's conversation.

Joyce looked between him and the door and sighed. "Well, if you want to be all mopey that's up to you, but if you want to make yourself useful why don't you help me out?"

She always had a way of knowing what he was feeling, Spike thought as he looked up at her. Even when he wasn't entirely sure himself. "Yeah, alright."

**TBC …**


End file.
